


Oh How Happy We'll Be

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke says yes when Octavia asks if her brother can come on their post-graduation beach trip, mostly because she assumes he won't actually want to. After all, it's not like they're actually friends. He's got to have something better to do.</p><p>So of course, he doesn't, and suddenly she's on vacation with Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh How Happy We'll Be

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at the beach with my family this week, which means I'm spending a lot of time catching Pokemon and playing Hearthstone, but also writing beach fic. And swimming I guess.

The real reason Clarke says Octavia's asshole brother can come to the beach with them is that she assumes he won't. After all, he's an asshole, and he doesn't like her. As far as she knows, he doesn't like any of her friends either. Who wants to go on a vacation with a bunch of people they don't like?

Of course, if you're Bellamy Blake, that might be your only vacation option, because from what Clarke can tell, he doesn't like anyone.

Which is, she knows, unfair. Bellamy is probably a well-rounded person with interests and things he enjoys. He's probably got friends. Octavia can't be the only person in the world who gets along with him.

So, of course, he won't come for vacation with them. Octavia will offer, which is polite, and he'll say no, which is also polite, and Clarke will rent a beach house and have a great post-graduation trip with her friends. It's not a big deal; it's friendliness. And it will make Octavia feel better, to make the offer. It's their graduation celebration, but Bellamy is finishing up grad school soon, so he has cause to celebrate too. She knows the Blakes are close, but it's been rocky, the last few years. Octavia wants to make a peace offering to her brother, and Clarke will help, even if she thinks he's a dick. She doesn't actively wish him ill; she just doesn't want to hang out with him.

So, of course, Octavia calls the next day and says, "Bell's in."

"Why?" Clarke asks, before she remembers that it's really rude.

"Why what?" Octavia repeats. "You said it was okay."

"Yeah, I just--" She clears her throat. "I figured it wouldn't be much fun for him. He doesn't know anybody."

"He knows me," says Octavia, but she sounds more amused than annoyed. "And Monty's coming, right?"

The question catches Clarke off guard. "Yeah. Are he and Monty friends?"

"Kinda. I think they went out for, like, twelve seconds, and then Bell was like, you'd be perfect for my best friend Miller. And Miller's going. And he knows you."

"I think that's a bug, not a feature," she says, dry.

To her genuine surprise, Octavia snorts. "Are you kidding? Arguing is like Bell's favorite hobby. Tied with reading, I guess. But he might like arguing even more. So if he's at the beach with you, he can argue so much."

"Great," she says, flat. "Just what I always wanted."

It's not like she _hates_ Bellamy or anything. Her first impression of him, junior year, was that he was really, really hot. Which obviously didn't mean anything profound about him as a person, but he was her TA for her Classical Civilizations course, and Clarke broadly approved of having eye candy in her life.

Within two weeks she'd learned that, one, he was a hardass in love with his own interpretation of the past, two, he was stubbornly opposed to anyone else's, and three, he was Octavia's over-protective grad-student brother. All of which would have been great reasons to stop thinking he was hot and try instead to learn to view him in a professional light: someone she could interact with in academic and social settings with politeness, despite her general low opinion of him.

Instead, they've spent the last two years mostly screaming at each other while Clarke wonders what his bottom lip would feel like between her teeth.

So a week at the beach with him after graduation. That seems fine. Definitely a situation she'll handle with grace and class.

It's going to be _great_.

She runs into Bellamy by chance two days later, and he gives her a fairly civil nod while he's waiting for his coffee. He was her TA again last semester, and she sees him socially, with Octavia--or, now that Octavia has mentioned it and she's paying attention, Monty too--but that's maybe once or twice a month. So she's not surprised that he comes over to say hi; who knows when he'll get the chance again?

"So, the beach?" he says, by way of greeting.

"What's wrong with the beach?"

He snorts. "Who said anything was wrong with it? I'm making conversation. We're going to the beach. Cool. I've never been."

The surprise clears up her irritation. "Really?"

"Not, like, the _beach_ ," he says. "We're from upstate New York. When was I going to go to the beach?"

"Never on spring break?" she asks. He gives her an unimpressed look, and she winces. "Sorry."

The thing is, she'd honestly expected that she would _like_ Bellamy Blake, when Octavia told her about him. She knows he's a dedicated, caring older brother. Sometimes she thinks she knows that better than Octavia does, because Octavia's close to the situation in a way that Clarke isn't. Octavia talks about Bellamy as being over-protective and paranoid, but Clarke didn't have any trouble reading between the lines of how much he'd done for his sister, raising her before he was grown himself, getting custody of her when their mother died, working and going to school part-time to make sure she could get through college.

Of course Bellamy didn't go on beach vacations, even on spring break. He couldn't have afforded it before; the only reason he can now is that Clarke's family owns the place, so he just has to cover his transportation and pitch in for food and other utilities. Clarke has a spreadsheet; vacation is serious business. 

"Yeah, not on spring break," he says, not looking at her. "I'm looking forward to it."

Her stomach twists in an unfamiliar way. "Good," she says, and means it.

*

She doesn't think about the beach trip much for the next few months. It's her senior year of college, after all; she has shit going on. Once she's gotten everyone the dates and prices to contribute for necessities, she puts it out of her mind and focuses on graduating and figuring out grad school. When she thinks of it, it's as a goal, the light at the end of the tunnel. College is ending, and that's scary. Her friends are all scattering, and that's scary too. Finals are stressful, and everything is changing. But at least she's got a week of sun and surf and friends to look forward to. There's still plenty of good in the world.

Clarke and Raven go to the beach house first, Clarke to get everything ready and Raven because she's hitching a ride with Clarke. Which is nice, really; they have a short road-trip, wind in their hair, feeling lighter and lighter the farther they get from school. It's not like Clarke hated college--she really loved college, honestly--but it feels good to be _done_. When it's not terrifying.

The house is one of those things Clarke would be embarrassed to own, if she didn't like it so much. For most of the year, it goes unused; when she was a kid, she and her dad would come down for a month or two in the summer, her mother joining them on weekends or for a week, when she was willing to take the time off. After her father died, she couldn't even think about the house without hurting, and it was left abandoned and empty for almost two years, until she was in college and realized she could still stay there, even without him. 

This is her first time bringing other people to the house, but it doesn't feel bad. It feels like sharing something special with people she loves.

Well, people she loves and Bellamy.

Raven oohs and ahs over the house sufficiently, and then they make sure all the beds are made, get their own rooms set up, and head down to the beach.

The water is still a little chillier than she remembered when she was a kid, but they used to come in July and August, not mid-May. It's still warm enough for her to swim and catch a few waves. 

"Fuck, this is awesome," Raven says. She's never been to the beach either, growing up poor as well, but she takes to it easily, a better body-surfer than Clarke in just a few waves and grinning like she'll never stop.

They go back once they get hungry and find Bellamy sitting outside the house on his suitcase, apparently fooling around with his phone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Clarke asks, before she can stop herself.

"I was invited, remember?" he says, and she glares at him.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow. Around one. I have it on my calendar."

"I got finished early," he says. "I emailed you. I would have texted, but I don't have your number. I figured the email would be sufficient."

Clarke feels heat rush up her neck, because she is, generally, one of those people who checks her email obsessively and has notes on everything. It's why she had a calendar with Bellamy's ETA in the first pace. _Everyone's_ was on there. But she didn't check her phone while they were cleaning, and she left it at the house when they went to the beach. She was in vacation mode.

"I missed it," she says, still scowling, even though it's not really his fault.

Raven looks between them, eyebrows raised, and then extends her hand. "So, I'm Raven. You must be Octavia's brother."

"I'm hoping you know that because you know everyone else, not because Clarke complains about me," he says, but it's easy and a little amused. He definitely checks Raven out a little, which--she's wearing a red-and-black bikini and looks amazing, and he's even subtle about it, barely more than a curious once-over, but it still makes irritation spark in her gut. Raven's not here to be ogled. None of them are.

"Nope, that's definitely why," Raven says. "I'm gonna grab the shower first. Nice to meet you, Bellamy."

Bellamy gives her a sardonic salute and then turns his attention back to Clarke. He actually seems a little contrite, which is a new look on him. "Sorry, I didn't think it would be a problem to come down early. My roommate just got a new girlfriend and I wanted to get the fuck out of my apartment. I knew you were gonna be here, so--"

"It's fine," she says, because it's not like he did anything _wrong_. "Sorry I missed the email. I wouldn't have locked you out."

He shrugs, fluid and easy and apparently unconcerned. "No problem. I was a little worried when you didn't email back. I was trying to get your number from O, but she's in last-minute finals mode, so--"

"Yeah, I bet."

There's an awkward pause, and then she feels his eyes flick over her. Her bathing suit is a blue bikini top and black shorts, and she feels--cute. But not particularly sexy. Not like Raven, who's all slick and smooth and has legs that go on forever. They're the same height, but Clarke's pretty sure a higher percentage of Raven is leg.

"You cold?" he asks, and it's gruff enough to raise her hackles. She's wearing this, and he's wondering if she's _cold_? Fucking Bellamy, seriously.

"I'm fine. I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty warm out here. And there's AC inside."

"Yeah, but I assume you can shower or something. Put on clothes."

"I need to wash off my legs," she says, and tries not to feel self-conscious as he watches her find the hose and get the sand off.

She'd expected him to come with Monty and Miller, since he's getting them at the airport, and it was easier to imagine this as a group tour. Opening the door with just Bellamy behind her, she just feels awkwardly rich, acutely aware of how much the cost of the house, nothing to her family, would have helped him growing up.

But he just says, "Nice place," which is, again, even worse than his actually mentioning how rich and unnecessary it is. He's not giving her a chance to snap at him, like an asshole.

This is going to be a rough week.

"Thanks," she says. It feels like every hair on her body is on edge, a cat who's been spooked. 

"So, where should I put my stuff?"

"You're sharing with Lincoln," she says. "This way."

He makes a face. "Lincoln? The--" He gestures, apparently trying to convey _big_ and _tattoos_ with just his hands. It's kind of upsetting that she understood him, honestly.

"Look on the bright side," she says, with false cheer. "If he's staying with you, he's not staying with Octavia."

"Thanks. That helps." 

"And you get first choice of beds. So that's something."

"Is one better? Do you have a recommendation? I'm new to this whole thing."

"I like the one that isn't by the window. Avoid the sun."

"Thanks." He puts his bag down, and it's awkward again. She and Bellamy don't _chat_. They don't have conversations without very specific goals.

"Finals go okay?" she finally asks.

"I graduated, so yeah. Not all my students did, but I did my fucking best, so--"

"I'm sure you did," Clarke says, and grins when he gives her a side-eye. "I mean it. You're an asshole, but I came around on your teaching techniques."

He snorts. "Wow. Can I get that in writing?"

"I'm pretty sure that's basically what I put on my evaluation at the end of the semester."

"I think there was actually more profanity on the evaluation. _Fucking dickhead_ , maybe."

"I figure clear, constructive criticism is the best."

"Yeah, that would be great. Let me know if you ever have any." He crosses his arms, looks her up and down again. _Critically_. All her goodwill evaporates, but then he says, "Seriously, the AC is intense, you must be freezing. Go take a shower or something. I'll be fine on my own. I'm more of an adult than any of you guys, I know how to keep myself occupied for an evening. You won't even know I'm here."

She's not sure it counts as a lie, because she thinks he believes it. So he's not lying to her, he's just wrong. Because she's aware of him, unavoidably. It's like she's got a radar, attuned to him. There's this blip of awareness: Bellamy Blake is here, in her beach house. Probably reading.

"So, that's O's brother you hate, huh?" asks Raven, when the two of them are in the kitchen. Raven is cleaned and dressed and looks way too amused.

"I don't hate him," Clarke says, reflexive. "I just think he's an asshole. But plenty of my friends are assholes."

"Sure. You didn't say he was hot."

Clarke actually startles, looks around like Bellamy might be lurking somewhere, listening in and hearing that Raven thinks he's hot. Which isn't even noteworthy, honestly. Bellamy probably knows he's hot. She doubts he could miss it. 

"Why would I say that?"

Raven just raises her eyebrows. "Wow. So, yeah. You're going to hook up with him by the end of the week. No question. Like--I give it three days."

"Three days?" Clarke asks. Her voice goes up much more than she'd like. She's being _shrill_. It's not a good way to convince Raven she's wrong.

Then again, if there's a good way to convince Raven she's wrong, Clarke has yet to find it, so it's probably no worse than any other reaction. But it _still_ feels worse.

"You're stubborn, so maybe five. But yeah. It's definitely happening."

"Thanks." She sighs and scrubs her hand over her face. "I didn't even want him to come. Now he's going to come to dinner with us."

"And probably the grocery store," Raven says. "Which is cool. He looked built. I bet he can carry a ton of booze."

Clarke perks up at that. "I bet he can."

"See? Just look on the bright side. Hot guy carrying booze. That's definitely a kink of yours."

"Hot people carrying booze," Clarke corrects. "All genders welcome."

"So me and him carrying booze together is like the ultimate, right?"

"Until you make out, yeah."

"Wells is coming, right? That's who I'm hitting this summer."

"He's got his own house," Clarke says, smiling in spite of herself. She really hopes Raven makes that work.

"Even better. I'll have somewhere to go when you and Octavia's brother get too loud."

Clarke shoves her, and Raven grins, and they go down to get Bellamy together.

*

Shopping with Bellamy is, honestly, an experience.

Clarke has always thought of herself as a fairly thrifty person. When she was a kid, her parents gave her an allowance and kept her on a pretty strict budget, and she's good with finances. But she's always had _enough_ money, more than enough, which means that she's never really checked for sales or clipped coupons or any of that. And Bellamy, well--

Bellamy knows how to do everything on a budget, and every time Clarke puts something in the cart, he has an opinion on it. Sometimes he doesn't voice it, just scoffs or rolls his eyes, but he can't keep quiet most of the time.

"You cannot possibly taste the difference in fucking mayonnaise. It's all basically the same. And it's cheaper to make your own."

Clarke stares at him. "You make your own mayonnaise?"

"I don't use mayonnaise much. But when I was a kid, yeah."

Raven is buying booze, either to give them privacy or because she was afraid they'd murder each other and doesn't want to witness it. Either way, she's not around, so Clarke has no one to look at like she's on _The Office_ , which sucks, because, honestly. 

"Why were you making your own mayonnaise when you were a kid? I get that it was cheaper," she adds quickly. "But how does that even come up?"

Bellamy evaluates the mayonnaises carefully and replaces her Helmann's with something more generic. "It's just smarter. I didn't have to buy anything else. Eggs, already have eggs. Vinegar is cheap and good for cleaning. Ditto lemon juice. And everyone has salt. I'm not saying we have to make it here, we don't need half that shit. I'm just saying, generally."

"Point taken," says Clarke. She looks at the cart and nods; if Bellamy's better at shopping than she is, he can take this. Maybe save them all some money. "So, what else should we be getting?"

He side-eyes her. "What do you mean?"

"I want good, expensive meat," she says. "I'm spoiled. I care about where my meat comes from. Everything else? Knock yourself out."

There's another minute of wariness, but apparently she's convincing, because he nods once. "Cool. We're getting rid of some of these, then."

And once that happens, it's actually bizarrely fun, with Bellamy applying his same irritable, jerk-with-a-heart-of-gold teaching techniques to shopping tips instead of history. Clarke makes a few suggestions that he actually takes, and that's familiar too, the pride of convincing him she's right, that he should listen to her. It always feels better, changing Bellamy's mind, than changing anyone else's. She always knows she earned it.

It takes a few trips, but they get everything into the house, and Bellamy insists on cooking dinner, and there's something kind of primally satisfying about watching a hot dude use a grill. It's probably partly based on heteronormativity and gender roles and shit, but, at the same time, well--it feels like a good start to her summer. Maybe it won't be so bad, having Bellamy around.

And then, the next morning, she says she's going to the beach and asks if he wants to come, and when he comes out in his swim trunks, and suddenly it's the worst idea in the history of the world. Clarke had sort of assumed he was decently muscular, but he's _ripped_ , huge arms and broad chest and miles of perfect skin, curly hair falling over his forehead. He looks like the best fantasy she's ever had, and he's _right here_.

She could have predicted it, has even thought about him naked once or twice, idly, but--the reality is way too much.

"You have sunscreen?" he asks, which doesn't bring her all the way back to reality, but is at least a start.

"Yeah, do you need some?"

"I've got the spray stuff," he says. "But if you can spray my back, that would be great."

On the one hand, actually touching him would probably be a terrible idea, so Clarke's just as glad he's got the spray can. At the same time, it's really a shame that the world is losing sexually charged sunscreen application. Maybe the old people are right, and millennials really are destroying everything.

Raven is going to get Wells from the airport, so Clarke and Bellamy go down on their own, and Clarke's kind of weirdly excited to see him interacting with the ocean for the first time. She's not sure she's ever seen him really happy, and she's hoping this will do it. It's amazing, how much she wants that, and she's not examining the feeling, for her own mental well-being.

It's a pretty short walk down to the beach, and Clarke loves that too, the anticipation before the first glimpse of the sand and water, and then all of it, the entire ocean laid out before her.

"Jesus," Bellamy mutters, but he's smiling. "You're like a little kid."

"I love the beach."

"Did you come here every summer?"

"Until my dad died."

There's the kind of pause that makes her think he didn't know her dad was dead, and his voice is a little off when he asks, "When was that?"

"Junior year of high school. I didn't come back until college. This is my first time bringing friends."

He's quite for a block, and she's almost forgotten the conversation, they're so close to the beach now. But then he says, soft, "I really do--I appreciate you letting me come. It means a lot."

It's a calculated risk to say, "I didn't think you'd want to, honestly."

He doesn't bristle; he smiles a little, small and maybe sad. Not a smile Clarke's ever seen from him. A new one. "I was--" he starts, but cuts himself off. "Yeah. I wasn't doing anything else."

It's very clearly not the whole story, but Clarke guesses she can let it drop. It's not a conversation she feels like she knows how to have with him, not yet. But she kind of wants to anyway.

"Well, this is a pretty good thing to do," she says, and actually bounces a little. "Come on, up the stairs."

"Just like a little kid," he teases, and when he slows down, teasing her, she impulsively grabs his hand to actually tug him toward the wooden stairs to the beach. "Clarke, what are you--"

"It's the _beach_ ," she says. "Get excited."

"I'll get--" he starts, but stops as he sees the beach for the first time. It's early enough not that many people are here, but the sun is up, the waves are blue, and the sand is golden. "Oh," he breathes.

Her grin feels a mile wide. "That's what I wanted."

"No palm trees, though," he says, but he can't really manage the tone he's trying for. He's totally into the ocean. It's obvious. She can't stop smiling. "Is it warm?"

"It's not bad. It looked online, it's like 72 today, I think. We used to come later in the year, when it was warmer, but it's not bad." She pulls his hand again, only realizing as she does it that she's still holding him. It's surprisingly easy. "You can swim, right?"

"Yeah, I can swim. I've never been to a beach, but we had a YMCA membership." She can see his throat bob as he swallows, which is not great. "I've never been in anything other than a pool, though."

She squeezes his fingers. "Okay, so, it's salty. Like--really salty. I know you're thinking, _Clarke, I know the ocean is salt water_ , but you're still going to be surprised the first time it gets in your mouth."

"That's what she said," Bellamy says, like it's an obligation, and she snorts.

"Thanks. There's probably an undertow. So even if we're standing still, we're going to get out of the water and not be where we started. The waves can hit pretty hard, even if they don't look big. I usually duck under them."

"How many sharks are there?"

"At least twenty. And they all want to kill you."

"Awesome."

She lets go of his hand so they can put their stuff down, but she finds it again to tug him to the beach. It's weird, for sure. She should not be doing this. But--well, she's been single since junior year, and Raven isn't wrong that she'd definitely hook up with Bellamy, given the chance. It's not like she's never fucked someone she doesn't particularly like before.

She doesn't usually drag them around on the beach first, but that's not really something that's come up before. Maybe she would have.

Bellamy pauses at the edge of the water, and Clarke pulls him again. "It's water," she teases. "It's not gonna bite."

"That's what the sharks are for," he grumbles, but he does step in, tentative. "It's fucking cold!" he barks.

"You get used to it," she says. "Come on, Bellamy."

He seems to be distracted by his feet in the wet sand. "This is really weird."

"It gets weirder."

"You really know how to sell a guy on the ocean," he says, but he follows her out deeper, letting the waves crash against his legs.

The first time a wave hits him, it catches him off-guard enough to actually bowl him over, which Clarke would feel bad about, except that she didn't expect it either, because she was too busy watching him to pay attention to the ocean.

"Fuck, it's salty!" he splutters, and then actually _laughs_ at her face. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You warned me." He shakes his hair out, scattering droplets everywhere. He's grinning, bright and white, water trailing down his chest, and Raven was so, so right. She'll be lucky to make it three days.

"We should duck under this next one," she says, and tugs his arm to get under the water. When he breaches, he's laughing, and Clarke's never seen anything better. She didn't know Bellamy Blake ever got so happy.

"No wonder people like the beach," he says. 

"Yeah," Clarke agrees. "I'm saying."

*

When they get back to the house, Octavia and Jasper are there, and Clarke feels self-conscious, suddenly, for having a good time with her brother. Which is ridiculous, because why wouldn't Octavia want Clarke to be nice to Bellamy? It was Octavia's idea in the first place; she should be glad Clarke is being welcoming.

But there's welcoming and then there's holding Bellamy's hand. It was out of general enthusiasm, not--it wasn't _serious_. But Clarke still can't help thinking Octavia would not approve. There's a part of her that's always thought that Octavia preferred Clarke and Bellamy at odds with each other.

Which they probably still are. One nice morning at the beach doesn't change anything.

"Bell didn't drown?" she asks, grinning and hugging Clarke before hugging Bellamy, like it's been years since she saw them and not less than a week. "You didn't push him under?"

"I didn't have to. The waves did all the work for me."

"I was getting the hang of it," he says. "Hey, O. Hey, Jasper. Uber didn't take you somewhere to murder you?"

Octavia rolls her eyes. "Stop being a paranoid dick about Ubers, Bell. Actually, just stop being a paranoid dick in general. You're going to get wrinkles."

"That's fine. I'll look dignified." He rubs the back of his neck, apparently already self-conscious, and Clarke surprises herself by feeling worse for him than Octavia. She has no idea where this tension between them is coming from, but--Bellamy seems anxious and Octavia seems annoyed. Her sympathy's with Bellamy.

"Is Raven back yet? Did she show you your room?" Clarke asks. "Bellamy and I need to wash off, but that won't take long."

Jasper's eyebrows shoot up. "Since when do you and Bellamy wash off together?"

"Since we're both covered in sand. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jasper."

"Raven showed us our rooms. Is the beach good? You guys don't want to come back?" Octavia asks. "I want to get changed and go."

Clarke glances at Bellamy, letting him decide. He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm good for now. We'll go back later."

"Suit yourself. Just tell us where we're going."

Clarke gives them directions and then leads Bellamy back to the shower, still feeling antsy. But she manages to wait until they're done with the shower to burst out, "What's up with you and Octavia?"

"What about me and Octavia?" he says, gruff and just a touch combative. But Clarke just waits for a minute and he wilts. "You know what she's doing?"

"She's at the beach."

"Clarke."

"Seriously, I don't know what you mean."

"Her new job."

"Oh," says Clarke, because of course Bellamy would be stressed about that. Octavia joined the Peace Corps, and it's something that's cool and exciting and good for her. Clarke hadn't thought about it in relation to Bellamy, and Octavia probably didn't either, and they almost certainly had a fight about it, Octavia thrilled and Bellamy already worried. She's pretty sure Bellamy doesn't know how not to worry about Octavia, even when he has no reason to, and this is actually a pretty decent reason.

"The farthest I've ever been from her is a couple states," he says. "And I had a car. I've always known exactly how many hours it would take me to get to her if she needed me. But--she didn't. And now I won't either."

"Hey," says Clarke, gentle. "She knew. Not--she didn't know like you did. But she's always known you'd be there for her, any time she needed you."

"Yeah," he says, but the twist of his mouth looks painful. "She knew that. And she never would have called."

It's something Clarke can't actually comprehend, how Bellamy feels about his sister. And the worst part is she doesn't think Octavia comprehends it either. It's not that she thinks Octavia is wrong for going, but--she could try to understand, how Bellamy must feel. Instead of writing him off as fretting over nothing. Even if he is, Clarke thinks she understands _why_ he is. She can't feel it like he can, but she can sympathize.

"You know, freshman year, when she aced her sociology midterm? She called you before she told me. She was so proud. You're part of every good thing in her life, Bellamy."

"But not the bad things."

"She knows you'd come," says Clarke, careful. "And that's--I get why you would. But I get why she might not want you to, too."

He lets out a long breath. "Yeah." His smile is wry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get my family shit on your vacation. If I'd known she was--I almost canceled."

"I'm glad you didn't," says Clarke. She wets her lips. "Bellamy, she knows she can count on you. She just doesn't want to. She's--she likes to handle stuff on her own."

"Why?" he asks, and he sounds genuinely confused, not angry. "I get she's--I know she's independent, I'm glad she is. But I don't get it. If I have someone to help me, why wouldn't I use that? Why wouldn't anyone?"

Someday, Clarke is going to say that's the minute she falls for him. That's what she'll pinpoint, when she thinks about it later. Bellamy Blake not even understanding why someone wouldn't want the help they could take. Why anyone wouldn't want an ally. That's what does it.

"I don't know either," she says, heart in her throat for reasons she doesn't understand. "But--that's how she is, I guess."

"I know." He runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"I asked," she assures him. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." And then she offers him a smile, squeezes his arm, gentle. "Thanks for telling me. I'll--you can talk to me any time you need to."

It feels weird, but he seem to relax. "Thanks." And then the moment passes; he clears his throat, awkward, and she has to look away from him. "I'd better get to the airport for Monty and Miller. You need anything?"

"I'm set. Thanks."

"No problem. See you in a couple hours."

*

Lincoln shows up just after Bellamy gets back from the airport, so their entire company is assembled then. They're not all close to each other, everyone connected by weird threads of acquaintance and circumstance. Octavia, Clarke, Monty, and Jasper were all in the same freshman dorm, and while they've had periods of talking less, not being as close, they've always been friends, the kind of friends who last. Raven and Clarke had a disastrous period when they were dating the same guy, before they figured it out and mutually dumped him. Miller is Monty's boyfriend, Clarke went to high school with Wells, Lincoln is Octavia's crush and Clarke's art-history buddy.

And Bellamy is Octavia's brother, and also apparently Miller's best friend and Monty's ex. She hadn't thought he was so involved with her friends, but he fits in almost effortlessly. His biggest issue is honestly that he's awkward with Octavia, but she's not sure it's obvious to anyone else. Maybe not even Octavia. Or maybe it's her imagination; maybe she's projecting because of their talk. But she thinks he really is being a little--delicate. Trying to be careful around her.

Clarke, meanwhile, is trying not to be too obvious about watching Bellamy, because she's the one who didn't even want him to come. She doesn't really have any right to worry about his well-being; she's not supposed to care about his well-being.

But she wants him to have a good time.

Miller is apparently some kind of grill aficionado, and he and Bellamy squabble over dinner while Raven and Wells take on Jasper and Monty at ping pong and Lincoln, Clarke, and Octavia work on a puzzle. At least they're all drinking cheap beer, or she'd feel like they were way too wholesome. 

Ping pong evolves into beer pong after dinner, and then just unstructured drinking. Clarke doesn't have too much herself, preferring to remain mostly sober so she can supervise the rest of the group.

"You're supposed to be having fun, Griffin!" Raven yells. "You don't have to be everybody's mom all the time!"

"I'm just not an alcoholic like some people," she teases, and Wells snorts.

"Don't even pretend. We're your friends, remember? You're not gonna fool us. We've seen you drink before."

"Bell's like that too," Octavia says, rolling her eyes at her brother. "Always wants to be responsible instead of fun."

"I can be responsible and fun," Bellamy says, without looking up from the puzzle. It's not a good way to make an argument, because even if he is drinking a beer, he's still doing a puzzle while their friends are getting wasted.

"You just choose not to be?" Octavia demands, and he shrugs, easy.

"This is who I am, O."

"We're not gonna have any fun, are we?" Jasper asks, with a dramatic side. "Clarke is the dad friend, your brother is the mom friend, we're gonna get told to hydrate all the time and not run with scissors."

"What makes me the dad friend?" Clarke asks, frowning, at the same time Bellamy says, "What's wrong with hydrating?"

Raven _cackles_ , drapes her arm over Well's shoulders, grinning. "Yeah, this is gonna be a really fun week. Can't wait to get told how to live my life responsibly."

"Every time you think about doing something, just do the opposite," Clarke says, and Raven sticks her tongue out.

"Shut up, I'm more together than the rest of you put together. Awesome job, awesome friends, awesome life. I don't need parental guidance. Which is good, because my parents fucking sucked."

"Cheers," says Octavia, clinking her cup against Raven's. "Present company excluded," she adds, inclining her head toward Bellamy.

"I'm not anybody's dad. Or mom," he adds, before Jasper can say anything. He pauses, deliberate, milking the moment. "But I love you all and I want you to make good choices and succeed."

Monty throws his empty cup at Bellamy, and Bellamy ducks his head, grinning, and Clarke leans back, closes her eyes, and lets the night wash over her.

*

The next afternoon, she spends twenty minutes trying to teach Bellamy to bodysurf and trying not to stare at his naked chest. Which gets infinitely worse when they get home and he just doesn't bother putting his shirt back on at all. It's not really surprising; it's warm and everyone is friends and casual, and Raven is wearing jean shorts and a bikini top while she plays Grand Theft Auto with Miller and Monty egging her on to murder the most people possible. The dress code is beyond relaxed, but as hot as Raven is, Clarke is used to her in various states of undress. With Bellamy, she's still sure, all the time, that she is staring at him, and everyone can tell.

But it's honestly just _unfair_ , for anyone to be that hot. She's going to file a complaint.

He doesn't wear a shirt from the start of the day the next day, either, and Clarke thinks, _Third day_ , without really meaning to. Raven slept at Wells' place last night, and she'll probably keep doing it, so Clarke could counter-tease her, except that Raven has no shame. And they might not even be having sex yet; Wells might want to take it slow. She thinks Raven might too. She hasn't dated much since Finn, and while she acts cavalier, Clarke knows she takes these things seriously.

Regardless of all that, Raven's going to be smug. And Clarke is--

Clarke is stupid into Bellamy Blake. She shouldn't be surprised, honestly; for all it's her trip and her friends, she's used to being a little detached from things like this. She's the one who likes to see everyone having a good time, but she always feels a little separate. And it's easy for everyone to pair off, aside from Jasper, and Monty and Octavia always make sure he's included.

So now there's her and Bellamy, off on the side of the group. Not quite parents, but--a little bit parents. In a weird, non-related, peer way. They end up on their, drinking slowly, supervising, chatting a little. They fit naturally.

When Bellamy slips up onto the roof that third night, Clarke follows him without thinking, just sparing a glance at the rest of the group. They've got Mario Kart going--between Raven, Monty, and Jasper, they have three gaming consoles and at least four Nintendo DSes--jeering and heckling as Monty and Miller square off, and if they notice her leaving, well. She's getting mocked about hanging out with him anyway, so it's not like this is going to make it that much worse.

And she's still worried, honestly.

The crow's nest is Clarke's favorite part of the house; she remembers it most strongly from her moody teenage years, when she'd come up here with her headphones and listen to music, looking out at the distant sea and thinking about how no one understood her, and how well this song would work on the soundtrack of the movie that definitely needed to be made about her incredibly exciting and dramatic life.

She assumes that's what Bellamy's doing too, and she goes to lean against the railing next to him. The wind is whipping his hair around, just enough to be kind of artistic and brooding. Hers is just getting in her mouth.

"I don't actually know what you're doing after this," she says, not looking at him.

"Going to sleep, probably."

She ignores that. "Do you have a job lined up?"

He lets out a long breath. "I've got an apartment."

"So, still looking?"

"No, I'm teaching," he says. "Community college."

"Where?"

She can see him wet his lips out of the corner of her eye. "Bunker Hill. It's in Boston."

Between the tension of his shoulders and the lightness of his voice, she knows he must know exactly what he's saying. Octavia probably told him she's going to grad school in Boston. He's known for who knows how long that they'll be in the same place, and he hasn't mentioned it.

Not that he has to. They still aren't friends.

"That's awesome," she says, and nudges his side with her elbow. "Why aren't you excited?"

"I'm excited. It's not--I know it's not as prestigious as teaching at a private school. Even a state school. But I was in community college my first couple years, before I transferred. And it was great. I don't know if I want to be there forever, but--yeah. I'm excited."

"But you still feel guilty for not running across the world to take care of your sister."

He lets out a soft, amused sound. "How'd you know?"

She bumps his shoulder. "You're obvious. Sorry."

"It feels so fucking selfish," he admits.

"Selfish."

He glances at her. "I can't tell if that's a question."

"No. It's just--it's so stupid, Bellamy. I'm sorry, but it is. I'll tell you what I think you're doing wrong any day, you know I will. But this isn't it." She can't help a smile. "You did it, okay? Your sister is a grown up and she can take care of herself. And that's what you're supposed to do, right? You raised her, and now it's done."

He drops his head down into his arms. "Fuck. I know it's stupid. I should be fucking _happy_. She's got a good job. _She's_ happy."

"You did good," Clarke supplies, when he doesn't keep going. "And you'll keep doing good. For more people than just your sister."

"I'm really excited," he says, like it's a secret. "And fucking terrified."

"Yeah."

"You're taking this conversation pretty well."

"I've been thinking about it," she admits, and when he raises his eyebrows, she refuses to blush. _Refuses_. "I figured you might need someone to talk to. I wanted to be ready."

"So what did you come up with?"

"This is the first time in, what, twenty-two years? That you haven't been thinking about how to take care of Octavia. She got through college. She's an adult, and she's supposed to be on her own now. And that means you did it, but--" She smiles a little. "It also means it's over, and you need to find something else to do."

His breathing is a little shaky. "You're pretty good at this conversation."

"I just tried to--think of what it would be like. To be you."

"You ever watch _The Simpsons_?" he asks, to her surprise.

"A little. Why?"

"There's this part where, uh. I don't remember all the details, but Marge and Homer lose custody of the kids and they go to the neighbor Homer hates for a foster home. And he's taking them to get baptized, and Homer's trying to figure out where they are, so he tries to think like Flanders. And he just thinks, _I'm Ned Flanders, I'm a four-eyed loser, I wear the same sweater every day_ , and then he figures out where they are. That's how I'm picturing you thinking like me."

Clarke grins. "So you admit it worked."

"Clearly."

She considers, and then tugs his arm. "Okay, come on."

"Come on what?"

"You haven't been down to the beach at night yet, right?"

"How is it different from the beach during the day?"

"Only one way to find out."

They sneak out the back while everyone else is still gaming, although Clarke is pretty sure Lincoln notices. Lincoln is definitely the safest person to notice; he won't mention it. And, okay, everyone will probably notice they're gone at some point, and will definitely assume they're hooking up, but Clarke's really not down for beach sex. She doesn't like getting sand on her feet, let alone anywhere else.

"I'm not going swimming," he says, as they make their way down. "I already took my contacts out."

"You could swim blind," she says. His glasses are another thing ruining her life, and she tries not to think about that either. Everything about Bellamy is basically destroying her right now. "But I wasn't actually planning on swimming."

"So what do we do?"

"Walk. Look at the water. Just--it's nice, okay? You'll like it. Trust me."

He pauses for just a beat too long before he says, "Yeah," and something inside her glows.

Once they're on the sand, walking barefoot just where the surf comes in, she says, "I don't actually hate you."

"Hm?"

"Earlier, your _Simpsons_ thing. You said Homer hates his neighbor. I don't hate you."

"Huh."

"You're abrasive and kind of cocky," she says. "When you're worried about your authority, you tend to go kind of--alpha dick. But once you relax, you're a lot better. You have a chip on your shoulder, but I can't actually fault you for that. You can be an asshole sometimes, and your sense of humor is really questionable."

"Wow. This is great. We should do this more often."

"You're smart and loyal and a really good teacher. You're good with people when you want to be. And the other stuff--" She shrugs. "You've met my friends. They're all assholes. You fit right in."

Even though he's quiet, she finds she's not nervous at all. She's pretty sure he wants to be her friend. They're just kind of bad at it.

Or they were. They're getting a lot better.

"When are you moving to Boston?" he asks, finally.

"A few weeks. I'm getting furniture and stuff from my mom's and then Wells and I are taking a U-Haul down."

"He and Raven are going to be there too, right?"

"Yeah. What about you? When are you going?"

"I'm going from here. I packed up my apartment before I left, so I'm just stopping through, loading up my car, and going on to Boston after."

"Cool."

She can't see him well in the dark, but she can hear him swallow. "So, you don't hate me."

"I might even be looking forward to hanging out with you more."

 _Third day_ , she thinks, as his hand finds hers. They haven't held hands since that morning on the beach, but it feels more familiar than not holding his hand. "You want to get a drink? In Boston."

"I want to get a drink now," she says, and misses when she tries to kiss him, because she's really having trouble seeing the details of his face in the dark. He just laughs, though, takes her chin to turn her face, and kisses her properly this time, warm and fond and smiling against her mouth.

"Okay," he says, barely pulling away. "I feel better."

She tangles her arms around his neck and kisses him again, longer and deeper, feeling thrills up her whole body as he pulls her against him. 

"I want to get a drink in Boston too," she says. It's less sappy than some of the things she's thinking. "A lot of drinks."

"I'm only paying for the first one," he teases. "I'm not going to be making much money for a while. You're still rich."

She grins wide enough he can probably still see it. "Deal."

*

"Someone came home late last night," Raven says, when Clarke comes downstairs the next morning. Bellamy got up early to go for a run, which explains something about his overall fitness levels, but also sounds terrible to Clarke.

He did kiss her for about ten minutes before he left, though, so it was worth getting woken up.

"Two people came home late last night," Octavia adds. "And my brother wasn't around to tell me not to sleep with Lincoln, so thanks, I guess. I never want any details. About anything."

Clarke didn't actually get laid last night, just made out a lot and got groped a little, but she doubts pointing this out is going to help her case. She was out late, and Bellamy was in her bed last night. These are facts. 

"When did you get back from Wells'?" Clarke asks, pointed.

Of course, Raven doesn't care. "Just in time to see your boyfriend leaving your room. Was he trying to sneak out? He sucks at it."

"He went jogging."

"But you're not denying he's your boyfriend."

"There is no good answer to that," Clarke says, because it's true. She's not convinced he is her boyfriend, but she'd like him to be. She wants to keep him. She wants to make sure he's okay. "I'm pretty sure Octavia doesn't want to hear excruciating details about my relationship with her brother."

"But you like him, right?" Octavia asks, sharp, and Clarke realizes if she gives the wrong answer here, things are going to change forever. Octavia's not going to forgive her, if she hurts Bellamy.

It makes her feel a lot better.

"Yeah," she says. "I like him a lot. We're going to--we're making plans for Boston."

"Cool," says Octavia. "That's good. He's kind of a failure at dating, so--be good, okay?"

"As good as I can be," says Clarke, because between Finn and Lexa, she also feels like her dating history kind of sucks. But maybe this is a two-wrongs-make-a-right situation.

She thinks they're going to be fine. It's almost enough to make her giddy.

He shows back up ten minutes later, sweaty and still bare-chested, and glances at his sister before he leans in to peck Clarke on the mouth. 

"I'm gonna go jump in the ocean," he says. "You want to come?"

"You're not even asking me?" Octavia demands, but her grin is a mile wide.

"You'll come if I want you to or not. I don't have to ask. You just invite yourself."

"Yeah, but I'm giving you guys privacy. So you better remember that later."

"Thanks, O. You're a saint." His smile to Clarke is a little hopeful. "Coming?"

"Yeah, just let me get changed."

He snakes his arm around her waist as soon as they're out of sight of the house, thumb stroking against his side. "Thank god I don't have to pretend I'm not staring at you in your swimsuit anymore," he says, and gives her a very unsubtle once over that makes her almost tempted to find somewhere semi-private to have her way with him.

" _Me_?" she demands instead. "At least I'm not allergic to shirts."

He grins. "Come on, it's the beach. I'm new at this, but I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to wear shirts at the beach." He leans in to nudge her temple with his nose, like he just can't stop _touching_ her. Like he just likes knowing he can do it. "Is that a problem?"

"Not anymore." She bites her lip, but she has to ask. "You're into my swimsuit?"

"I'm into you," he says, and then flushes a little. "Uh, I assume you knew that. It seemed like you figured it out."

"Yeah, I noticed. Raven told me I was gonna hook up with you in three days flat."

"So you did it and now you're done with me?" he teases.

"That wasn't hooking up," she says. "That was kissing. We have way more hooking up to do."

"Oh, good," he says. "But we're going swimming first, right? I'm getting really good at bodysurfing."

She leans into his side, closes her eyes. The rest of the week at the beach, two weeks at home, and then she's in Boston, getting settled in for her new life with her friends, and her dorky, irritable boyfriend.

"Swimming first," she agrees. "We don't want to waste your beach time."

"Definitely not a waste," he says, soft, and Clarke thinks, yeah. 

She's so glad he came.

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5691655/chapters/17064427)!


End file.
